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*FRESH YARN * The Online Salon for personal essays * Brought to you by Hillary Carlip. This Is Why You're My Best Friend & Thought Catalog - StumbleUpon. We’re best friends because you get it.

This Is Why You're My Best Friend & Thought Catalog - StumbleUpon

I’m not sure what that means (it’s all so vague) but whatever it is, you have it. I don’t need to explain anything to you or worry if you’ll get the joke. You already got it and are on your way to making the next one. Thanks, babe! You really make socializing a lot easier for me. We’re best friends because you love me even when I’m terrible. We’re best friends because I can take you anywhere and you’ll adapt. We’re best friends because you never make me uncomfortable. We’re best friends because we can go for long stretches of time without talking and it won’t damage the relationship. We’re best friends because you don’t get resentful or jealous if I get into a relationship or land an amazing job.

You’re my best friend because you’re not afraid to call me out on my crap or disagree with me. We’re best friends because you make feel less alone in this psycho, flaky world. Faults- Poets.org - Poetry, Poems, Bios &More - StumbleUpon. - StumbleUpon. Charles Bukowski - The Great Poet - StumbleUpon. Shel Silverstein: Poem of the Week - StumbleUpon. “My beard grows to my toes, I never wear no clothes, I wraps my hair Around my bare, And down the road I goes.” – “My Beard” Where the Sidewalk Ends “Needles and pins, Needles and pins, Sew me a sail To catch me the wind.” – from “Needles and Pins” Falling Up “Millie McDeevit screamed a scream So loud it made her eyebrows steam.” – from “Screamin’ Millie” Falling Up “I will not play at tug o’ war.

Shel Silverstein: Poem of the Week - StumbleUpon

I’d rather play at hug o’ war” – from “Hug O’ War” Where the Sidewalk Ends “If you are a dreamer, come in.” – from “Invitation” Where the Sidewalk Ends “Anything can happen, child, ANYTHING can be.” – from “Listen to the Mustn’ts" Where the Sidewalk Ends “Balancing my ABCs Takes from noon to half past three. I don’t have time to grab a T Or even stop to take a P.” – “Alphabalance” Falling Up “Last night I had a crazy dream That I was teachin’ school. Literature Project - Free eBooks Online - StumbleUpon.

I carry your heart - StumbleUpon. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley - StumbleUpon. Chapter One A SQUAT grey building of only thirty-four stories.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley - StumbleUpon

Over the main entrance the words, CENTRAL LONDON HATCHERY AND CONDITIONING CENTRE, and, in a shield, the World State's motto, COMMUNITY, IDENTITY, STABILITY. The enormous room on the ground floor faced towards the north. Cold for all the summer beyond the panes, for all the tropical heat of the room itself, a harsh thin light glared through the windows, hungrily seeking some draped lay figure, some pallid shape of academic goose-flesh, but finding only the glass and nickel and bleakly shining porcelain of a laboratory. Wintriness responded to wintriness. "And this," said the Director opening the door, "is the Fertilizing Room. " Bent over their instruments, three hundred Fertilizers were plunged, as the Director of Hatcheries and Conditioning entered the room, in the scarcely breathing silence, the absent-minded, soliloquizing hum or whistle, of absorbed concentration.

Meanwhile, it was a privilege. Responds by budding. Mr. Do not stand at my grave and weep - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia - StumbleUpon. Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep is a poem written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye.

Do not stand at my grave and weep - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia - StumbleUpon

Although the origin of the poem was disputed until later in her life, Mary Frye's authorship was confirmed in 1998 after research by Abigail Van Buren, a newspaper columnist.[1] Full text[edit] Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on the snow, I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

Origins[edit] Mary Frye, who was living in Baltimore at the time, wrote the poem in 1932. Mary Frye circulated the poem privately, never publishing or copyrighting it. The poem was introduced to many in Britain when it was read by the father of a soldier killed by a bomb in Northern Ireland. BBC poll[edit] ... Rocky J.